


We Don't Even Ask Happiness (Just A Little Less Pain)

by hemakeshimstrongx



Series: The Song Fic Series [13]
Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Artist Zayn, Kid Fic, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Photographer Harry, Writer Louis, based on Ronan by taylor swift, i dont think i can tag stuff without giving away the story???, i guess its sad, it's definitely sad, liam and niall are only mentioned lol, ummm okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemakeshimstrongx/pseuds/hemakeshimstrongx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has defining moments throughout their lifetime. Harry Styles' defining moments included Louis Tomlinson, and their son Cole. The Tomlinsons thought they were untouchable. Two seconds rip their perfect serenity to pieces right before their very eyes. Harry isn's sure they'll ever recover. </p><p>[or; harry and louis experience a tragedy no family should ever have to experience. it will take more than two seconds to heal.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Even Ask Happiness (Just A Little Less Pain)

**Author's Note:**

> here's another fic! this one's based off of Ronan by Taylor Swift. there is character death in it and it's pretty sad - it follows the whole grieving process after the loss.  
> P.S. the title is from Charles Bukowski!

In life, there’s always defining moments. Every single person has their own defining moment, or maybe it’s a series of moments that occur over a period of time, over a lifetime. Harry Styles’ defining moment was a moment, but in that moment there was a person – Louis Tomlinson. And then they fell in love. That was a bunch of little tiny defining moments. And then they got married, another defining moment was standing there at the alter. When their son Cole was placed in his arms **,** Harry was sure that was the moment to define all moments. It felt like everything in his life had been building up to the moment they walked through their front door with a bundle of baby. Harry assumed that was it, none of his other moments would be as defining as bringing home Cole, but life can be unforgiving, which Harry was naive enough to think he would never have to experience. 

**_i remember your bare feet_ **

**_down the hallway, I remember_ **

**_your little laugh._ **

 

Two seconds. Two seconds have the power to change an entire life. One second of action (or lack thereof), one second of impact. An entire lifetime of consequence. 

If the impact hadn’t hurt Harry, the consequence definitely will. The weight of those two seconds will forever hang above him, always lingering. Like someone screaming ‘this was you, this was your fault! Now he’s gone and it’s all because of you, and there’s nothing you can do about it!’. 

Just hours ago, Cole was running around the entire house searching for his shoes so they could get to Louis’ mother’s house quicker. He wanted to leave as soon as possible, wanted to see his grandma and his aunts and spend the day there. Then they got in the car and got driving, and those two seconds happened. Two, small, life changing seconds. 

Now he’s standing here in the doorway of the hospital, watching them roll Cole down the long hallway. A nurse is making sure Harry’s aware that he can’t continue down the hallway, or he’ll be asked to leave. If he wants any news on his son, to come ask her – Meredith – he thinks her name is, and she will do everything she can to find out. 

“Okay?” she’s asking again, putting both hands on Harry’s shoulders. 

“What?” he says finally, snapping out of the trance he’d been in. It’s still there,  _ this is your fault, two fucking seconds, Harry. This is all your fault.  _

“I said you’ve got a cut on your forehead, I want to get it stitched up. They’re taking your son into surgery right now.” 

“What happened?” Harry asks. He needs the clarification. 

“You lost control of the car. There was two other passengers in the car.” 

Two other- _ shit. Louis.  _ Harry’s eyes go wide. “Where’s my husband? He was–he was in the passenger seat. I need to find Louis, where’s Louis?” 

“Okay, okay.” Meredith says calmly. “You need to remain calm, it’s the best thing you can do for your son and your husband. I’m going to take you to a bed and start getting you stitched up. Another nurse will take your information and find out about your husband, okay?” 

Once Harry nods, Meredith leads him over to a bed and grabs a suture kit. She numbs the area before cleaning it. Harry’s not sure he would’ve felt what she was doing anyway, his body has been numb since his arrival at the hospital. “This is Amie, she’s going to take your information and do everything she can to find out about your husband and son.” 

So Harry’s going to have to talk to people. He’s going to have to form comprehensive thoughts and tell this woman about his husband who is missing and his son who is apparently in surgery. He can do this. “Can you state your full name?” is the first question. Yes, Harry can. 

“Harry Edward Styles.” 

“Family members?” 

“Louis William Tomlinson is my husband. We got our son, Cole Patrick Tomlinson, he was born on June 17th of 2013. We got married in September of that same year. He’s just turned four, Louis is twenty six. And I’m twenty four, I don’t know if you need that or not. But there it is, so.” 

Amie nods, jotting down the information that Harry’s spitting out. “Do you know what happened that caused you being here today?” 

“A car accident, I think? No, I know. A car accident. I was driving, and Louis was in the passenger’s seat. Cole was in the backseat.” 

“Where were you going?” 

Fuck, does this woman seriously think Harry can remember where they were going at this point? Okay, wait. Harry has to remember. For the sake of Cole and Louis, Harry has to remember. Louis would want Harry to remember. There, some motivation. “His mum’s. Louis’.” 

“Okay. I’m going to go see what I can find out about Louis, alright? If I find anything I will come back and find you, okay?” 

Harry nods, and Meredith tells him to stop moving. He has to nod, has to say something and give them something to go by. For the sake of Louis and Cole. For their sake. “Everything’s going to be okay, you know? I promise.”

Hopeful, naive maybe, but Harry believes it. Harry finds it in himself to believe that everything will be okay. “You know, this morning, everything  _ was _ okay. Our son was running around looking for his shoes and socks and giggling while Louis chased him around. Then we got in the car, and it was snowing, and Cole was so excited. God, he loves when it snows. Just like his dad. Louis loves it,” Harry cracks a small smile. “I hate it, though. Because usually I’m the one stuck shoveling the snow, since Louis ends up running off with Cole.”  

“Everything will be okay again,” Meredith whispers. “I promise.” 

 

**_Racecars on the kitchen floor, plastic dinosaurs._ **

 

Amie comes back long after Harry has been stitched up, and he’s sitting in the Emergency Room waiting area. Harry recognizes her immediately; how could he not recognize the woman who holds the fate of his husband in her hands? Or, in her brain, maybe? Whatever. “I’ve found your husband,” She says immediately. 

Harry’s still holding his breath. That’s not all he needs to know. He doesn’t need to know  _ where  _ Louis is, he needs to know  _ how  _ Louis is. 

“He’s upstairs, already in a room.” Amie says. Finally,  _ finally,  _ Harry exhales that breath. Louis is alive. Louis is alive and that’s all that matters. 

“What about–” 

“Cole,” Amie cuts Harry off. “Your son. He’s still in surgery. Injuries were severe. Doctors are doing everything that they can.” 

Harry exhales another breath. Heavy, shaky. “Can I see Louis?” 

“I can take you to Louis now.” 

“How bad is it? What happened to him?” 

Amie leads Harry through long hallways while she answers his question. “The other car came at the passenger side of your car, which means the injuries your husband and son received were the most severe. Your husband had multiple open wounds and there was some internal bleeding, not too severe, so he got lucky.” 

But the car came at the passenger side. How did Louis get away with such little injury? The car– oh. Oh, no. “Did the car… Was the back hit more than the front? Is that why Cole is so much worse than Louis is?” 

“Possibly, yes.” _Shit, shit._ “Louis hasn't woken up yet, but you can stick around until he does.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

Amie explained to Harry what Louis’ injuries were, but that certainly doesn't prepare Harry for seeing Louis like this. Machines beeping and an IV in his arm, cuts all over his face and length of his arms. Harry exhales shakily. “If you need anything or anything happens, you can either come find me or press that button,” Amie points to the call button on the side of the bed. “Someone will be here shortly after, okay?” 

Harry nods. This is okay ( _this isn't okay)._ He pulls a chair up to sit beside the bed as Amie leaves the room. “I don't know what's going to happen with Cole, Lou,” Harry whispers, reaching out and grabbing his husband’s hand. Louis has always had small hands, but now they feel especially small and fragile and Harry’s sort of afraid he's going to break Louis. His hands are cold. Louis’ hands are never cold. 

Louis’ hands are always warm. Louis is always warm. The perfect contrast to Harry’s cold. They’ll be playing with Cole on the floor of the living room, sometimes _hours_ with tons of different toys. Race tracks and dinosaurs and a pretend kitchen. Sometimes he’d run a restaurant, Louis, Harry, and all of Cole’s toys as customers. They would play for hours and afterward, curl up on the couch to wind down before bed. Louis would make a comment about how _freezing_ Harry’s feet are, or his hands, whatever part is touching Louis (because they’re always touching, really). The comment would set Cole off because Louis wouldn't stop talking about it, and they’d end up getting riled up once again. 

If they were in bed, Harry would rest his head on Louis’ chest and tangle their legs together under the sheets. Louis would make fun of Harry for the cold feet, and Harry would keep them there just to bother Louis. 

Now Harry’s the one sitting beside Louis. Harry’s hands are warmer than Louis’, and he can't help but think what a cruel world this is. 

 

**_I love you to the moon and back._ **

 

“He's starting to wake up now,” Meredith sticks her head out in the hallway. Harry left the room briefly to see if he could find anything out about Cole. No one could tell him anything, but Amie promises she’s going to head to the OR right now and find him. 

Harry snaps his head up. He's never moved faster than he is right now. He has to get to Louis, he has to see Louis. “Louis, oh my god,” he exhales immediately.  _ This is all your fault. Two fucking seconds Harry.  _ Thanks to the voice in his head, the weight on his shoulders, Harry says, “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” 

“Harry.” Louis says. Harry’s been with Louis long enough that he’s able to read Louis’ voice at this point, and the one Louis is using is a very disapproving one. “Don’t say that, love.” 

“You could’ve died, Louis.” Harry expresses, eyes wide as he sits down next to the bed again. Louis reaches a hand over to wipe Harry’s cheeks. His hands aren’t cold anymore. “I was driving. The other car hit your side. And Cole–” 

“Harry,” Louis repeats. “I’m alive. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I don’t want you to do that to yourself.” 

“Two seconds,” Harry whispers. “Two seconds and everything went wrong.” 

“I know, darling, I know. Are you okay?” 

“I have a few cuts and bruises, but I’m okay.”

“What about Cole, baby?” 

Harry shakes his head, opening his mouth to try to say something, but he can’t decide on the words he wants to say. Finally, “I don’t know. A nurse is checking now. When we first got here they were taking him into the OR…” 

Louis nods slowly. “Okay, alright. It’s okay, everything is going to be okay.” 

“I love you,” Harry says, swallowing hard. “I love you so fucking much.” 

Louis nods again. “I know, Haz.” 

“Say it back,” he demands. “Please say it back. I almost lost you and I haven’t heard you say it in forever, I need you to say it back.” 

“I just said it this morning. But, I love you too. So much.” 

**_I remember your blue eyes_ **

**_looking into mine, like we_ **

**_had our own secret club._ **

Louis refuses to remain immobile. He absolutely hates staying in bed and doing nothing. He should be up looking for answers about Cole or doing something other than laying in bed. So, he doesn’t. And Louis Tomlinson is a very hard person to say no to, let alone convince to do something other than the one thing he has his mind set on doing something. This is why he’s up walking down the hallway to the nurses station right now to  _ demand  _ answers from somebody about where the fuck his son is. Harry’s too nice to force it out of anybody. Louis just got hit by a damn car, so did his son, and they don’t know where Cole is. Louis is going to get answers. 

“I need information on a patient.” He says sternly, leaning on the desk. “Right now.” 

“Louis,” Harry hisses, putting a hand on Louis’ arm. “If you’re rude–” 

“You weren’t rude and look where it’s gotten us.” Louis snaps. “I need information on a patient. He was brought in with a car accident.” 

“What’s the patient’s name?” the nurse asks. 

“Cole Patrick Tomlinson **.** He’s four, and last we heard he was in surgery.” 

The nurse types and clicks away at her computer, eyebrows drawn together. “Alright. He’s been transferred to the ICU.” 

“The ICU,” Harry repeats. “What–” 

“Can we see him? Like, now. Right now.” 

“What’s your relationship to the patient?” 

“I’m his father,” Louis and Harry say at the same time. The nurse blinks between the two of them. “Both of us. Father’s. Dads.” Louis explains. 

“He has whose last name, though?” The nurse says slowly. 

Louis groans. “He has mine. Yes, he does. And so does this one,” He jabs a thumb out at Harry. “Husband. Adopted son. Can we see him now, please?” 

“ICU is down the hallway, make a left. Speak to the nurse at the desk there.” 

Louis grabs Harry by the arm and tugs him down the hallway. “You don’t have to be so damn rude about it. She’s doing her job, Louis. She gets tons of other people in here demanding stuff all the time.” 

“None of those other people want to know about our son.  _ Our son,  _ Harry.” 

“I know, Louis, I know.” Harry says softly. 

“We’re looking for our son. Cole. He got brought in with a… A car accident.” 

The nurse at the desk looks up at Harry and Louis. “Family?” 

“Yes.” 

“Bed four.” She says without a second thought, pointing over her shoulder. 

This time it’s Harry who is ahead, hurrying down to the proper room. It was a bad decision, going in such a rush to see Cole. Harry regrets it immediately, he wasn’t ready for the sight of his son. It overtakes him, and he probably would have collapsed if it weren't for Louis right there at his side. He loves Louis. 

“C’mon, love. You're okay.” Louis whispers reassuringly, rubbing Harry's arm. 

“I can't go in there,” Harry shakes his head, looking at his husband. “I can't do it.” 

“You  _ can  _ and you  _ will.  _ I know it's a lot. It's a lot and it's scary. But that's our son, H. And he needs us. I need you.” 

Harry opens his mouth to say something else in protest, but instead closes it and nods solemnly. It’s not worth arguing over; Louis is right and won’t let Harry do anything other than enter the room. Louis nods as well, clearly approving of Harry’s decision to keep it together. “Let's go, then,” he says softly, grabbing Harry by the hand and leading him into the room. 

There's beeping, steady beeping. Harry figures it's a good thing that the beeping is steady. An IV drips, also steadily. The sounds of a ventilator overtake all others in the room. Their son’s eyes are closed. Harry wants to look at his eyes. He has bright, bright blue ones, like Louis’. Harry looks at Louis to his left, hoping to see his bright blue eyes. But they're dull, almost grey. Harry has never longed to see blue so much. 

“He's gonna be okay,” Louis exhales. “Everything will be fine.” 

Harry shakes his head. “You don’t know that, Lou. You don’t.” 

“I have to. We have to think like that. Everything will be fine.” 

“I-I can’t… I don’t know what to do.” 

“You sit down and you hold his hand. We sit together and hold his hand and tell him that we’re  _ here  _ and that everything will be okay.” 

Harry looks into Louis’ eyes, still dull and tired. But he nods his head, realizing that this is all they can do. They sit down on either side of the bed in complete silence. Harry’s head becomes overwhelmed with the steady machines beeping and the sounds of the breathing tubes in his son’s throat and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to  _ do this.  _

 

**_I remember you dancing before bedtime,_ **

**_then jumping on me waking me up._ **

 

“Just this morning,” Harry says shakily, looking over at Louis. “Just this morning he was all excited to go see your mum. And we got in the car and-” 

“Harry,” Louis says firmly. “This is  _ not  _ your fault. I need you to understand that. None of this is your fault.” 

“I was driving, Louis. I was driving the goddamn car and this happened.” He sobs, looking back at the beautiful boy laying in the bed.

“No, Harry. It’s not your fault,” Louis is standing, coming over and kneeling back down in front of Harry. “None of this is your fault, my love. What happened was a tragic, tragic accident. The snow was coming down and that car came out of _nowhere,_ baby. You weren’t drunk, you weren’t high and you weren’t even distracted. We never, ever let him get rowdy in the car. This isn’t your fault. Please, please don’t blame yourself.” 

Harry takes a shaky breath, letting Louis wipe his cheeks. “Okay. I’ll try not to.” Harry feels like he might be lying, but he has to make sure Louis thinks he’s telling the truth. 

 

A tall man in scrubs and a lab coat comes in not too long later. He voices his apology and condolences before Harry demands he tell them what's going on. “Your son is stable, but still critical. He isn't out of the woods quite yet. There’s massive trauma to his head and chest. When he was brought in, his left lung was collapsed, which we managed to take care of rather quickly. We're currently carefully monitoring his heart rate and brain activity, watching out for clots or hemorrhaging. It's still critical, but he is stable as of right now.” The doctor is clearly trying to do a good job of assuring Harry and Louis that their son is  _ stable,  _ but not necessarily  _ okay  _ yet. It's doing nothing to bring Harry any sort of comfort or relief. 

 

**_I can still feel you_ **

**_hold my hand, little man._ **

 

“Can he hear us? Feel us? Anything?” Louis asks. 

“It’s possible. Truthfully, we don't know for sure. But I have seen that talking can help in some cases. Nobody here will judge you for trying.” 

Harry would hope not. “Is he going to wake up?”

“As I said, Mr. Styles,”  _ Tomlinson.  _ “He suffered major trauma. We're monitoring brain bleeding and hoping it will clot on his own. There's no telling when he’ll wake up or what will happen with the bleed. The second things tip even slightly south, we’ll bring him into surgery to control the bleed.” 

_ This is all your fault this is all your fault.  _ “Okay… thank you.” 

Harry watches the doctor leave, then turns to see Louis already leaning over Cole’s bed, talking softly to him. He wonders what's going through Louis’ head. 

“Mister Tomlinson,” a female voice says. Harry and Louis both lift their heads. Harry realizes that she's speaking to Louis and he wonders when the  _ fuck  _ someone’s going to acknowledge that he's Tomlinson as well. “Um, the doctor would like to take you to get some scans done.” 

“I can't leave.” Louis says firmly, without hesitation. 

“Go, Louis. You have to be okay, too,” Harry says softly, pulling his knees to his chest. He can't do this by himself, he needs Louis to be okay. 

Louis nods, kissing Harry on the head. 

 

By himself in the room, Harry says the words out loud to himself. “This wasn't my fault.” 

But the voice inside his head has other ideas; _this was your fault this was your fault this was all–_ “No, this wasn't my fault. I didn't hurt Louis and I didn’t hurt Cole. This wasn't my fault,” he says forcefully. He's trying to convince himself. He _has_ to convince himself. Harry reaches forward and grabs his son’s hand. Unlike Louis’ hand before, Cole’s hand is warm. Harry finds some kind of odd comfort in that. It's not a big comfort, but the fact that the boy still has warm hands makes Harry feel a bit better. Not much. 

 

**_And even the moment I knew_ **

**_you fought it hard like an army guy_ **

 

When Louis comes back, good to go, he suggests that they call their families. Harry knows that their mothers will both give them hell for not calling sooner, but they've been distracted. And no words they could have for Harry and Louis would be harsher than what Harry’s saying to himself already, so there's that. 

“Mum? Hi,” he says, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice. 

“Harry? What's wrong?”  _ A mother always knows _ . 

“There's, um… I don't really know…” 

Harry doesn’t have any words. He doesn’t know what to say to his mother without making her freak out or without himself breaking down again. 

“Give it here, love,” Louis says quietly, holding his hand out. “I can do it.” 

“No, I got it.” Harry argues. 

“What’s wrong, honey? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. It’s-we got in a wreck. A car accident. I’m fine, Lou’s fine. It’s Cole, mum. He’s in bad shape, they’re monitoring him now. And I-I’m really, really fucking scared.” 

“Jesus Christ, Harry. I’m so- where are you?” 

“Doncaster Royal,” Harry replies, really trying not to sob. He’s going to anyway. 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, H. You… hang in there, okay?” 

Harry and Louis hang up their respective phone calls right around the same time. Harry wonders what Louis said to Jay to ease her worry. How can you even ease someone’s worry in a situation like this? 

Suddenly, Louis starts laughing. He’s delirious, is the first thing Harry thinks. But Louis shakes his head, leaning against the wall. “I ran around this fucking place in this gown.” 

Harry sniffles, wiping his cheeks. “What?” 

“I think I flashed half the place my arse on the way down here. I need to get out of this.” 

He picks up his phone and does some typing. Harry assumes he’s texting his mother, or maybe even Zayn or Liam, asking for clothes to be brought. “I can't believe that happened,” Louis says, shaking his head. 

“At least you have a nice arse,” Harry replies, throat still tight like he could cry at any minute. 

Louis laughs at that again. 

 

**_remember I leaned in and whispered_ **

**_to you, ‘come on baby_ **

**_with me we’re gonna fly away from here’_ **

**_you were my best four years._ **

 

Harry can't lift his eyes from Cole’s small, fragile body. This is the image he’ll see for the rest of his life, without fail. The image of his beautiful son in a hospital bed because of a car accident that happened while Harry was the one driving. 

He leans forward, kissing Cole’s forehead. “I’m so sorry, my beautiful boy.” he whispers. 

Then he starts for the door. 

“Hey!” Louis calls, immediately coming after him. “Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?”

“I need to get some air. Please, Louis. I’ll be right back.” 

And, yeah, forty five minutes ago Harry didn't want to leave Cole’s bedside, but he needs to breathe. He feels like he's  _ suffocating  _ in there. 

On his way outside, Harry comes to the brutal realization that he is walking out of the hospital for air and his son isn't. He sits down on the curb outside the doors and takes a breath in the cold air. Harry would do anything –  _ anything  _ – if it meant he could take away Cole’s suffering. He would do  _ anything  _ to take that beautiful, fragile boy from the hospital bed and put him anywhere else in the world as long as it meant he wasn't suffering. 

 

“Harry!” 

When he looks up, Harry’s greeted by his mother rushing towards him. He doesn't think he’s ever been more relieved to see her. “What are you doing out here, baby? It’s freezing. Where's Louis?” 

Harry stands up. “I was getting some air. Lou’s inside with Cole. It looks pretty bad, mum,” he says, voice cracking. Here come the goddamn tears. 

Anne pulls him close immediately, letting Harry cry and telling him it's okay that he is okay and that everything's going to end up alright. Harry doesn’t understand how everyone can keep saying that it’ll all be okay. He finally forces himself to pull it together and lead his mother into the hospital. 

“We were on our way to Jay’s. It started snowing just as we’d left. And about halfway there… I don't even know what happened,” Harry takes in a shaky breath and wipes fresh tears from his cheeks. “A car hit us and then we were in an ambulance.” 

“I’m so sorry, Haz. Jesus, baby.” 

Harry shakes his head. “Don't say anything. That sorry shit. I hate hearing that.”

Anne nods, rubbing Harry’s back. “It's this way,” Harry says softly, leading her down the hall to Cole’s room. 

Louis is still sat in the same chair, in his stupid hospital gown. Harry really hopes he texted and asked for some clothes. Louis gets up and lets Anne hug him immediately. Harry stands completely still, eyes locked on Cole’s bed. 

He feels someone put a hand on his shoulder. Then a kiss is pressed to the back of his neck and Harry knows that it’s Louis. “Hey,” Louis whispers, grabbing Harry’s hand in his own. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Harry shakes his head. “I wish I could take him away,” he murmurs. 

Louis brings their hands up to his mouth, kisses Harry’s knuckles. “Me too, love. I’d do anything to take him - both of you - away from here right now. I love you, okay?” 

“I love you too.” Harry replies quietly. 

 

When Jay shows up, Harry thinks Louis cries when she hugs him, but Harry will never ask. And Louis will never tell, either. Harry just lets him have his moment and says nothing about it. 

Time ticks by slowly, Harry feels like every second on the clock is actually an hour. The doctor comes in and out, making sure that the monitors by the bed are reading as they should. The steady beep of the heart monitor is the one thing bringing Harry any kind of comfort, oddly and cruelly enough. As long as that machine is still beeping, Cole is still alive. 

Louis changes from his hospital gown as soon as he gets the go ahead from the nurse, putting on a sweatshirt and joggers that his mother brought when she came. As soon as he’s got regular clothes on he kisses Harry on the head and tells him that he’ll be right back. 

He comes back to the room with a stuffed tiger – Cole’s favourite animal. Harry really, really fights the urge to break down crying and screaming. 

“Where’d you get that?” he asks instead, hoping he can hold it together. But his throat is still tight and he might just start crying. 

“The gift shop downstairs,” Louis replies, touching a hand to Harry’s cheek. “You alright?”

Harry laughs, wet and bitter. “Am I alright? Oh, yeah. I’m great.” 

“Harry,” Louis says disapprovingly. “Please don’t be like that. I need you, okay? I need you here with me and I need to make sure that you’re okay. I know it seems like a stupid question but I want you to talk to me.” 

He knows Louis is right. Harry knows that Louis needs him, that Cole needs him, and he can’t shut down. As much as he wants to, Harry can’t shut down and shut Louis (and everyone else) out. “I know,” Harry says shakily. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

Louis shakes his head. “Please don’t apologize, baby. I don’t want you apologizing for anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay, I want you to be okay.” 

“I’m not really okay, no,” Harry admits, finally looking up at Louis. His eyes are red rimmed and duller than ever. Harry breaks down. 

“Shit, Haz.” Louis mutters, pulling Harry into his arms. Louis’ hugs are always something else. Harry has thought that every since they hugged goodbye after their first date (Harry was too chicken to kiss him). Louis always hugs like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. 

Louis holds him now, in the hospital room at their son’s bedside, holds him like he’ll never have to do anything else. Louis is holding him tight, Harry’s pretty sure it’s tighter than he’s ever been held, and it’s almost like Louis is trying to pull Harry back together. He’s trying to hold him tight and mend all those pieces that are shattered right now. Harry cries into Louis’ shoulder for  _ god  _ knows how long, but Louis’ neck is damp and Harry feels slightly embarrassed. 

Harry goes to apologize, but quickly remembers that Louis told him to stop apologizing. “I love you,” he says instead, putting a hand on Louis’ cheek. “I love you so much, Lou.” 

Louis nods, rubbing gentle hands over Harry’s knees. “I love you too, Haz.” 

 

Harry continually goes over those two life changing seconds. One second he didn’t pay attention, one second of impact. An entire lifetime of consequence. An entire lifetime of consequence that Harry will feel, Louis will feel, their families will feel. 

If this doctor keeps spewing such negative shit (“his stats aren't where we’d like them to be”, “we may have to bring him in for surgery, this next scan will tell”). 

“You think they’ll bring him in again?” Harry hears his mother ask. She's on the other side of the room, he knows she's not talking to him. 

He hears Louis take a breath. “I don't know. They said they were monitoring the bleeding in his brain. This scan… dictates it, I guess.” 

Time continues passing achingly slow. Two seconds feel like an entire lifetime. 

 

“Haz,” Louis whispers, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder.  “The doctor wants to talk to us.” 

If Harry could go the rest of his life without ever hearing those words again, he’d never complain about anything ever again. He wouldn’t complain about all the snow shovelling he has to do, he wouldn’t complain when Louis doesn’t do the laundry right, he wouldn’t complain about the mums he has to deal with at footie practice. He would do anything to avoid this entire situation. 

With a shaky breath, Harry stands up and follows Louis out into the hallway where the man who spoke to Harry and Louis earlier is standing. There’s no sign of Cole’s bed that they wheeled him away in for scans. So Harry braces for the worst. “We took your son downstairs for his scans to check how everything was looking, but while there his blood pressure dropped severely. There was no response in his pupils, and we need to take him into surgery. The second I have an update I’ll have someone to come get you. Meredith will lead you to a private waiting room.” 

A private waiting room. The only time Harry ever got taken to a private waiting room was when they told him that his grandmother passed and they wanted to give the family some time and privacy. Somberly, the foursome follow the young nurse to the private room. 

“You two should try to get some rest,” Jay says, shutting the door behind her. “Now that we’re in here it seems a lot more quiet and a lot more comfortable.” 

“I can’t rest,” Louis replies. Unlike Harry, Louis hasn’t even sat down. Harry wishes he knew what to say to him, wishes he could just say  _ anything  _ to make Louis feel even remotely better. But no one will make them feel any better by saying anything. 

“Louis,” Harry says finally. “Please sit down. I can’t- I need you. Please sit.” 

Louis looks at him, eyes filled with tears and love and pain. Something in his must change, because he comes and sits down on the couch next to Harry. “I don’t want to sit around here and wait for something to happen. I don’t like sitting here useless.” 

“I don’t like it either,” Harry replies. “But there’s nothing else we can do. Cole needs us here.” 

Louis puts an arm around Harry and pulls him closer. Harry basks in that, the way Louis just holds him. Neither one of them are crying, they’re just holding each other. Harry inhales shakily, pressing his face into Louis’ neck. “I love you,” he murmurs. 

“I love you too,” Louis replies, without a moment’s hesitation. 

 

Time in the small, private room passes just as slow as it had at Cole’s bedside. This time it's even more stressful and tolling, if that's even possible, since they have no tangible proof that Cole is still with them. He's down the hall on an operating table with surgeons cutting into his brain. That scares the shit out of Harry. It's about an hour before a nurse they haven't seen before comes in the door. 

“He's still in surgery, it could be a while. Hours. It's been touch and go, but we're doing everything that we can. Like I said, this could be hours. I’ll be back with an update as soon as I can, okay?” she speaks calmly and sweetly. Harry could never have a job like this. He couldn't keep his cool. 

Louis thanks the woman on behalf of himself and Harry, since he's the only one capable of forming an intelligent response. 

 

Harry falls into a memory, one of when Louis was away on business. He used to travel a lot, writing up pieces about where he travelled and even scouting new employees, but he really put his foot down when he and Harry got Cole. This time Louis went away for nearly two weeks, Berlin this time. Harry was at home after dropping Louis at the airport, and saw a report of a plane crash. The flight was leaving Heathrow and headed to Berlin. Harry’s heart stopped and he was frantic, dialing Louis’ cell immediately. But Louis picked up, that cheery, teasing,  _ miss me already, love?  _ ringing through Harry’s ears. Harry swore that he felt Louis’ voice all the way down to his toes.

This was only a few months into their relationship, but Harry knew right then that he was in love with Louis. He spit it out right there on the phone, and Louis said he knew. 

 

“What’re you thinking about?” Anne asks suddenly. Harry forgot for a moment that he was in this private room with his mother, husband and mother-in-law waiting for news about his son’s state. 

“I was thinking about Louis,” Harry replies, looking over to where he's standing by the window. He looks exhausted, Harry thinks. No, Harry  _ knows  _ this. “The first time I told him I loved him. I thought his plane to Berlin crashed. I was so, so afraid of losing him. That's how I knew I loved him.” 

“How come you're thinking about that, baby?” she whispers, running gentle fingers through his hair. 

Harry shrugs. “I dunno. I just… I thought I lost him and I never ever wanted to feel like that again, but here I am with that same feeling in my gut except this time it’s not over Louis.”

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby. You're gonna make it through this,” Anne tells him. 

The question of whether or not Cole will be okay has obviously been looming, but Harry never thought about if himself and Louis would be okay. Like, if something happens to Cole, will they be able to make it through? If his mum thinks something to be true, Harry’s learned that she's usually right. But with something like this, it's almost impossible to tell. 

So he tells her thank you, that he knows that they’ll be okay. 

 

The nurse comes back later, says that things are still on the rocks. They're doing everything they can. Louis goes for a walk once she leaves, and Harry doesn't stop him. He doesn't really blame Louis for needing to get out of the room. It's comfortable and cozy but that quickly becomes small and suffocating when your entire life is about to be wrecked. It's easy to feel like the room is too tiny and everything is too close and you can't breathe when you don't know how one of the loves of your life is doing. While everything hangs in the balance, one of the biggest things Harry has been feeling is suffocation. 

 

**_i remember the drive home_ **

**_when the blind hope_ **

**_turned to crying and screaming “why”_ **

 

Harry has seen  _ the world crashing down  _ described a few different ways. For some it’s a silent, slow decline. For others it happens with a bang. It may be a bomb that goes off and shifts the ground beneath your feet. But for Harry, sitting in this hospital room when the surgeon comes in wearing bloodied scrubs and a sad expression, Harry knows that reading about the feeling won’t ever compare to the real thing. 

“When we got him on the table it became evident that the situation was a lot more severe than we originally thought. He formed a massive blood clot and began hemorrhaging. We did everything we could.” 

Harry’s ears are ringing. He hears Louis say something, asking if that means Cole is dead. “He is on life support, but he is brain dead.” 

“Could he come back?” Jay asks. 

“There’s always a small chance that the patient could, but Cole is showing little to no brain activity whatsoever. The trauma he received during the crash was too catastrophic. He’d been hemorrhaging before we brought him in for surgery.” 

Louis exhales a breath. “Can you give us a moment, please?” 

“Of course. I’ll be in the hall.” 

Harry stands up and looks at Louis. And he starts crying. The room is all tears and sniffles and ‘it’s okay, you’re okay’ for a long time. Harry keeps on hearing in his head that it  _ isn’t okay  _ and he’s  _ not okay  _ because  _ this is all his fault.  _ He was the one driving the car. But Louis is running fingers through his hair and whispering in his ear and it’s making it really difficult for Harry to believe that little voice in his head, thankfully. For now, he can focus on their son. 

They welcome the surgeon back in the room once sobs have subsided. Harry can still hear his mother sniffling, wiping her tears with a tissue. There was a full box of tissues sitting on the table in the middle of the room, almost like they  _ knew  _ what was going to happen in here. That’s what it feels like. 

“So what’s our next step?” Louis asks, wringing his hands. Harry hears him crack each knuckle in turn. 

“I can take you back to see him, and then you need to make the decision of whether or not to withdraw care.” 

So the surgeon leads them, shows them where their son has a tube in his throat. “What are the chances of him waking up, again?” 

“They are very slim. There’s hardly any brain activity. I know it’s painful, but our next step in discussion is typically about organ donation. These machines will keep his organs viable, but the sooner the better.” 

Harry nods. “Okay, thank you.” 

“You can have a nurse page me whenever you’re ready to continue.” 

He’s gone again, but this time Harry doesn’t feel like breaking down and crying. He’s still afraid to touch Cole, afraid to break him even more. Louis grabs the boy’s hand and Harry feels like he can’t do anything more than stand there and look on. “We have to donate his organs,” Louis says quietly. 

“You want to take him off life support, then?” 

“You heard what he said, Haz. Cole isn’t there anymore. That machine is pumping his heart for him. And you know how Cole was, baby, he’d want to help as many people as he could. That’s just how he was.” 

Harry bites his lip, struggling to fight back the tears that are already coming. “I know. You’re right,” he says brokenly. “We have to do it.” 

Louis nods, pulling Harry into a tight hug. This hug feels different than any other hug they’d ever shared (that’s a lot of hugs). Harry doesn’t feel sadness or loss or even pain in this one. This hug feels like a  _ we’re going to be okay  _ promise that Harry actually believes. 

 

There aren’t any words to describe the feeling Harry gets in his chest when they turn off the machines keeping their son alive. There aren’t any words to describe the feeling he gets when they wheel Cole’s body down the hall. There’s nothing out there to even begin to explain how he feels when the nurse that gave him stitches in the ER eternities ago gives them information on wake and funeral services. 

 

When Jay offers to give them a ride home and they're finally leaving the hospital, it's noon on Sunday. At this time yesterday they would've been just arriving to Jay’s. 

“It wasn't supposed to be like this,” Louis says suddenly, staring hard out his window. It’s very cloudy, which Harry finds just the slightest bit dramatic. “We shouldn't be leaving the hospital where our son just died with a bag of his stuff.” 

Jay glances at him in the rearview mirror, but doesn't say anything. Harry nods, reaching across the back seat to grab Louis’ hand. “I don't know why it happened. It's not fair.” 

“It's not fucking fair,” Louis repeats, shaking his head. “And I’ll never, ever understand why this had to happen.” 

Although his words are pain-laced and clearly being forced out, Harry is glad to hear Louis talking. Whenever something bad happens, Louis tends to shut out. Harry himself is the same way, but he hates seeing Louis get like that. Louis probably feels the same way, though, so. Hearing Louis talk like this tells Harry that they’re on the same page, and they might be able to make it through this. He knows a tragedy like this often makes or breaks couples. 

 

Jay offers to stay over for the night, just like Harry’s mother had, but the boys decline again. Neither one of them want to be around anyone else right now. Inside, Louis drops the paperwork from the hospital on the kitchen island. Harry just stands there, in the middle of their kitchen where they just ate breakfast, and doesn’t know what to do. 

“We’ll get his handprints soon.” Louis says. Harry’s confused for a moment, but quickly remembers that at the hospital they’d asked if they wanted any ‘keepsakes’, and the pair chose Cole’s handprints. “We’re gonna, um, have to plan the wake and stuff.” 

“I can’t do that right now,” Harry replies. “I think I just want to take a shower and go to sleep.” 

Even though it’s the middle of the day, Louis doesn’t put up a fight. Just a half hour later they’re both lying in their bed. As Harry manages to drift off, he thinks he can hear Louis crying.  

 

He wakes up again to a cold and empty bed. It’s dark now, but that doesn’t stop Harry from getting out of bed and searching for Louis. He finds him in the light of the kitchen, sat at the island and reading something with a cup of coffee sat beside him. Louis rarely drinks coffee, so Harry is a little surprised. “Hey,” Louis says softly, looking up at Harry as he comes in. “Did you sleep?” 

“Not soundly,” Harry replies. He’s had much better sleeps. “S’quiet down here.” 

Louis smiles sadly. “I know.” 

“Did you sleep at all?” 

The circles under Louis’ eyes tell Harry that the answer to this question is no. “Not at all. I don’t think I want to.” 

“So what are you doing?”

“I was looking through all this paperwork they gave us. There’s a lot here. Police shit, too. About the accident.” 

“What’d they say?” Harry asks, pulling out a stool beside Louis. 

“The other driver only suffered broken bones for the most part. But, get this, he was intoxicated.” 

“You’re fucking with me,” Harry looks over Louis’ shoulder, wanting to see this for himself. “So that’s, like, a murder charge. Manslaughter.” 

“We could take it to court. Hire a lawyer.” Louis replies, dropping the papers and rubbing at his eyes. 

“I think we need to go over the funeral first,” Harry already feels tears welling up in his eyes. “I want to get that done before we do anything else. Let the cops take care of the drunk and we have to take care of our son.”

Louis puts a hand on Harry’s knee, squeezing gently. “We have to get through this,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple when he leans into Louis. “We’re going to. For Cole.” 

“Can you come upstairs with me? I just want to lay there.” 

As they’re walking down to their bedroom, Louis stops abruptly in front of Cole’s room. He grabs Harry’s hand. Finally, Louis’ hands are warm to the touch. Harry feels like he’s waited forever for that to happen. “You want to go in?” Louis asks, swallowing hard. 

Truthfully, Harry hadn’t even considered going into Cole’s room so soon after coming home. But Louis wants to go in. So, Harry nods. Louis opens the door, and they step in. Harry isn’t quite sure what he was expecting – maybe a wistful sense of Cole’s presence or perhaps the ghost of him sitting right there on the bed. But nothing out of the ordinary happens. He’s hit with a wave of sadness and ends up having to wipe away a tear. Harry feels like he hasn’t stopped crying. 

Louis sits down on the bed, newly a big boy bed with his fourth birthday. Cole was so excited to get the bed, Harry hopes he never forgets the look of pure joy on the boy’s face. “It’s so empty,” Louis’ saying suddenly, fisting the truck-dotted sheets in his hand. “All of this. Everything feels so… empty.” 

Harry nods, watching Louis lay down. He can’t make himself lift his eyes off the bed. Harry fears if he looks around the room like Louis is, he’ll get that same feeling of emptiness. He doesn’t want to feel empty. When things are empty that means that they’re gone, and Harry doesn’t want anything to be gone. 

Louis falls asleep in Cole’s bed, and Harry lets him stay there. They’ll both cope in different ways, and this is Louis’ way. He’s processing it, letting it seep in. Harry is pretty willing to do whatever he can to keep from processing it. He doesn’t want it to be empty. He doesn’t want Cole to be gone. 

 

**_flowers pile up in the worst way_ **

**_no one knows what to say_ **

**_about a beautiful boy who died._ **

 

On one of their first dates, Louis took Harry to a beautiful field and they had a picnic. Since the food was Louis-prepared, it was slightly subpar, but Harry wouldn’t have it any other way. Even today, when Louis cooks a meal Harry prefers it over any restaurant cooked meal. But on this date they listened to music and they laid in the field for hours, picking flowers and talking. Louis handed Harry a pretty pink coloured flower and declared it was the prettiest one he could find, so he decided to give it to Harry. When Harry asked why, Louis just replied, “I picked it because it’s the prettiest one, and you’re the prettiest boy, so it fits. You always pick the prettiest flower first.” 

Now, as he sits in the car outside the funeral home, Harry recalls that date and also the fact that there’s a quote about the most beautiful people dying because they’re something like flowers – the beautiful ones are the ones you pick. 

He honestly thinks that quote is kind of stupid, but different things work for different people. 

 

Here they are, five days after the loss of Cole, standing before his closed casket at the wake. Louis insisted on speaking tomorrow at the funeral, which Harry didn’t think he’d want to do. Lottie, Cole’s favourite aunt by a mile, will be speaking at the wake now. Louis asked if Harry wanted to speak as well, but Harry doesn't think he could do it. Get up there in front of all these people and put together words that describe Cole, not in this emotional state. 

There's a lot of  _ i’m sorry  _ and  _ if you need anything at all, call me  _ and  _ it'll all be okay.  _ Harry doesn't get why people keep saying that it's okay, that everything will be okay, because none of this is okay. It will take a long time for things to  _ be  _ okay again, if they ever can be. Zayn arrives before Liam and Niall do. Harry spots him, they make eye contact and Zayn’s making a beeline for him. 

“Haz,” he breathes out. Harry tries to form words, but he can't. “How are you?” 

Harry shakes his head. “I’m…  _ not.”  _

He's not  _ anything.  _ He's certainly not happy and he doesn't want to let himself feel sad and he doesn't want to think about the accident, he doesn't want to think about the future, he doesn't want to think about how Lottie is getting ready to deliver speak. He doesn't want  _ anything.  _ He doesn't want any of  _ this.  _

Zayn hugs him, a hug different than Louis’. Harry tries not to cry, he tries really hard. But shit happens and Zayn’s got a good hug and Harry just can't help it. He’s glad Zayn doesn’t say ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or anything along those lines. 

Louis comes over to get Harry, wants to be near him while Lottie speaks. Harry agrees, of course. After a few deep breaths, Lottie stands up in front of the room. 

She talks about the time that she found Cole getting into a tube of her brand new lipstick. He was only a year old at the time, and really didn't know any better. Harry’s eyes wander to the photo boards where he's sure that picture of Cole with pink lipstick smeared over his face is hanging. 

When she comes away, her and Louis hug for a long time. 

“She did a good job,” Harry whispers, turning to Louis. Louis nods, his eyes studying Harry’s face for a moment. Then, without asking, he pulls Harry into a hug. Harry tucks his face into Louis’ neck, where it feels like the world slows down for even just a moment. “I love you so much,” Louis whispers. 

Harry sends his reply through muffled sobs. 

 

“These were his favourite,” Louis says, picking up a bouquet of orchids. They made sure to have plenty, because Cole always loved orchids. “I want to take this home.” 

Harry just nods, continuing to put the pictures into a box to take home. For the funeral tomorrow they decided they’d only have a few pictures, their favourite ones, so they have some deciding to do. They also chose against having the funeral in a church, instead a graveside service will be provided. Cole never liked going to church, so Harry didn’t see it making much sense having the funeral in a church. 

When they get in the car, Louis just sits in the driver seat for a long time. They watch the lights at the funeral home go out, watch the funeral director come out and get into his car. He doesn’t give their car a second glance. 

“Are you ready to go?” Louis asks finally. 

“Yeah, let’s go home.” 

He’s not sure if he wants to call it home, since it’s really not home without Cole anymore. 

 

**_and it’s about to be halloween,_ **

**_you could be anything you wanted_ **

**_if you were still here._ **

**_i remember the last day_ **

**_when i kissed your_ **

**_face and whispered in your ear._ **

 

“I, um, I thought a lot about what I’d say once I was standing in front of you all. I’d like to thank you, first and foremost. On behalf of Harry and I and our families, thank you for coming. Cole would have loved seeing all these people in one place just for him. Now, I could share a memory, like about the time we found out Missy was pregnant and we’d be getting our little baby in nine months. Or the first time Missy handed us an ultrasound picture and told us we were having a baby boy, or the time I looked at that baby boy in my arms for the first time. I could tell you about the hundreds of pictures I’ve taken or the time Cole and Harry nearly baked us out of house and home,” Louis laughs a little, earns a chuckle from those listening. Harry remembers that day clearly; Cole was only three at the time. His excuse to Louis was that it was Cole’s idea, which obviously was not true. 

“Losing a child is painful for anyone, it's not something I’d wish upon my worse enemy, and I’m not sure there’s ever anything that can be said to soothe that pain. The fact that Cole is gone hurts. It will hurt for a long time. Knowing that we couldn't protect him will probably eat me alive for a long time. Not waking up to those big green eyes asking me when we can start to play, I’ll have to adjust. He was a beautiful young boy who had a lot of love to give but didn’t get enough time to give it.” 

 

Harry feels his throat tighten up when Louis says that, he knows he’ll be bawling again very shortly. Next thing he knows, Louis’ stepped back and more people are moving to place flowers on the casket. “How’d I do?” Louis asks. 

Usually when he asks a question like that he’s got a cheesy grin on his face, but today there’s only puffy eyes and the ghost of a smirk that he clearly can't muster fully. “You did amazing,” Harry forces out. “It was simple and beautiful.” 

 

Louis and Harry linger at the casket for a while, a tearful goodbye. Much like Harry remembers from his grandmother’s funeral, a group of people - family mainly - gather back at the Tomlinson house for food and drinks. 

“Are you doing alright?” Anne asks him, watching Harry pour himself a glass of wine. 

“I don’t really know,” Harry admits. “I haven’t decided yet.” 

He doesn’t really  _ want  _ to decide. 

“I think Louis was planning on making a little toast. You should come to the living room.” 

“Louis sure has a lot to say today, doesn't he?” Harry remarks, following his mother nonetheless. 

Louis’ speech is short, he doesn’t draw it out or try to crack any kind of joke and Harry wants to enjoy it, wants to feel the message and honor Cole, but really he just wants to lay down and go to sleep. Because when he sleeps he doesn’t have to deal with the fact that Cole is gone. He doesn’t have to think about their big empty house or the toys in the living room or his son’s body six feet under. He’ll have a dream about Cole, a nice one, and that’ll be it. Harry likes when he can sleep. 

 

Later that evening, after everybody has gone home and there’s flowers and some comfort gifts littering the dining room table and a bunch of food in the fridge, after Harry’s had a few glasses of wine, he tries to get in Louis’ pants. 

“Harry, I think you’re a bit drunk, love,” Louis says, making no effort to move further away on the bed. 

“I am. And I still want you.” 

So they do, and Louis is oh, so gentle. He keeps saying  _ i love you  _ and  _ you’re so beautiful  _ and Harry just hears  _ babybabybabybaby  _ over and over again and he doesn’t think he ever wants to hear anything else. 

 

“Do you want to sleep now?” Louis asks. “I won’t be offended. Even though we literally  _ just  _ fucked.” And he’s right - usually there’s another round or four. But Harry nods, yes, he wants to sleep. 

He leans forward, eyes half closed, and kisses Louis as best he can. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Louis replies. “Go to sleep, love.” 

Harry does sleep, falling into a dream. He’s with Louis, they’re laying on the field-date picnic blanket, kissing. Harry thinks they’re going to go all the way, but they're interrupted by a young voice saying  _ look at me, papa! look!  _ Harry looks, and Cole is the boy standing there.  _ I’m gonna climb this tree, papa! Watch me!  _ He goes up before Harry can stop him, and then there's a flash and they're in the car and there's screaming and Cole’s sitting on the center console with blood dripping down his face.  _ You couldn't even save me, papa! You couldn't save me.  _

Harry jolts awake, covered in sweat and breathing heavy. It doesn't register that he's crying until Louis’ hands are rubbing his back and he's asking, “are you okay?”

“I–I had a nightmare,” Harry replies, swallowing hard and trying to get himself under control. “It was about Cole. And I've never dreamt bad about him, Lou. Everything in the dreams is always good.” 

“Okay, babe. It's okay. I’m here. You're alright.” 

Despite efforts to calm down, Harry ends up crying harder. “But Cole  _ isn't  _ alright.” 

If he could prevent the look of pure sadness and brokenness that appears on Louis’ face after hearing this, Harry would do anything. “I know. I know, Harry.” 

“I don't want to admit that he's gone. I don't want him to be gone. We were supposed to protect him and-and keep him safe and we didn’t.” Harry’s crying, harder than he’s ever cried in his life. He’s not even sure if Louis can understand what he’s saying. 

But Louis’ still there and he’s nodding and now crying himself. “I know,” is all he says. Harry feels like lately that’s all Louis knows how to say. 

“I miss him so much. There’s just this ache in my chest that tells me he’s gone but every other part of me is screaming  _ he’s not gone, don’t let him go _ .” 

“I miss him too,” Louis replies, sniffling. “I do. I miss him so much and the fact that we couldn’t save him will haunt me forever. I don’t want to let him go, Haz, but we can’t hold on to him anymore.” 

 

**_come on baby with me_ **

**_we’re gonna fly away from here._ **

**_out of this curtain room_ **

**_and this hospital grey,_ **

**_we’ll just disappear._ **

 

“I don’t like that we walked out inst-instead of him,” Harry hiccups, and he feels plain fucking pathetic now. 

“You know I’d give up anything for you two. I would’ve done anything as long as it meant you and Cole were okay walking out of that hospital. And I got you, baby, you’re still here and you haven’t even got to take meds for any pain. If I could’ve taken him out of there, unharmed, I would’ve. Hell, if I could take  _ you  _ anywhere now, I’d do it.” 

“But you can’t.” 

“I can’t. Exactly. Just like I couldn’t save Cole. And I know that hurts, love. That will hurt more than anything for the longest time. If I could take that hurt away from you, I would. I’d do anything to take you away from here, Haz. Anything to make you feel less pain.” 

Louis reaches and wipes Harry’s cheeks, it's no use but Harry lets him try. “Don't cry,” Harry whispers. “Don't cry just because I’m crying.” 

“I’m not crying just because you're crying,” Louis replies, voice soft. “I know that you don't want to let him go. You don't want to let yourself feel anything because the second you do, you're acknowledging the fact that he's gone. But you've got to let yourself feel, my love. Let yourself grieve. You have to. I know it hurts and it's the shittiest fucking thing we’re ever going to have to go through but you have to let yourself feel it, Harry.” 

“We didn't get to tell him how much we loved him or get a dog or a cat or take him to Disney or make it to next Halloween. That was his favourite fucking holiday. What was the last thing he thought in the car? What was the last thing he said?” 

“He asked how much longer. He asked how much longer until we’d be there, that was the last thing I heard,” Louis admits quietly. 

Harry breaks down again, collapsing into Louis. They both lay there, in bed a mess of tears. Harry finally cries himself back to sleep. 

 

In the morning, Harry wakes up on his side of the bed with his back to Louis. Which is weird, usually he wakes up on Louis’ side of the bed completely entwined together. Louis is still sound asleep, so Harry rolls closer and doesn’t close his eyes again in fear of missing out on Louis’ beauty. He looks so peaceful asleep, even though he’s got red-rimmed eyes. He still looks beautiful, Harry thinks. He always thinks that about Louis. “I love you so much,” he whispers, tracing gentle fingers over Louis’ face. 

Louis stirs, pulling the duvet further over his shoulder. “I love you too,” he replies, voice slow and sleep-laced. 

Harry hums, scooting even closer to Louis. “Can we just go back to sleep?”

They do, staying tangled together under the covers for a long time. Harry’s not really sure he actually falls  _ asleep-asleep,  _ it’s that weird stage between asleep and awake that Harry’s always hated. They don’t get out of bed until three, when they’re too hungry to put it off any longer. 

“There’s a lot of food,” Louis says, standing in front of the open fridge contemplating everything in there. “We could have lasagna or spaghetti or green bean casserole - who the fuck even eats green bean casserole?” 

“Spaghetti,” Harry decides from his seat on the kitchen counter. Spaghetti was Cole’s favourite meal. Any holiday or special event or celebration needed to have spaghetti on the menu, there was no arguing. 

Louis pops it in the microwave and turns around to face Harry. Harry admires Louis, standing there shirtless with his mesh shorts hanging low on his hips and letting Harry’s mind do a lot of imagining. “How are you?” Louis asks, finally forcing Harry to stop imagining. 

He shrugs. “I don't really know.” 

“Don't know or don't want to know?” 

Now Louis’ onto him, onto the way Harry has been shutting out rather than accepting everything. “Don't want to know,” Harry says honestly. There's no use in lying now. “I guess talking to you last night made me feel… not better but, like, you know.” 

Louis nods. Harry wonders if he really does  _ know  _ or if he’s just nodding for the sake of making sure Harry feels as though he's being heard. Harry continues, “I think it’ll be a long time before either one of us feels ‘better’. Right now I don't even know what better would feel like.” 

Louis says nothing else on the subject. They eat their spaghetti standing in the kitchen because neither one of them wants to sit at the table and stare at Cole’s empty place. 

 

**_What if I’m standing in your closet_ **

**_Trying to talk to you?_ **

**_What if I kept the hand me downs_ **

**_you won't grow into?_ **

 

The days pass by slowly and Harry doesn't feel the ache in his chest lessen. He feels tired all the time, and if Louis weren't there to remind him to eat, Harry wouldn't be doing it. Louis hasn't gone back to work, he's been at home with Harry all the time. Jay stops by with Daisy and Phoebe but they don't stay long. Harry doesn't know if it's because they can't handle the cloud of constant sadness looming over the house or if it's because traces of Cole are still all over the place. Harry wishes he could sleep better, but the nightmares about Cole are becoming more and more frequent. If Louis weren't constantly present, Harry’d surely have gone insane by now. Harry read that these are all common things that come with grief. 

They get wine drunk on an expensive bottle from Zayn, which is one of the most bittersweet experiences Harry’s had to date. Bitter because he remembers why they got the wine in the first place, sweet because for the first time in two weeks, the weight of Cole’s ghost stops following him. 

“M’gonna head upstairs,” Harry says. He can hear himself slurring his words just  _ slightly,  _ just enough. He can function and he's temporarily rid himself of Cole’s memory. 

“I’ll be up soon,” Louis replies. He's  _ slightly _ less drunk than Harry is, which is also good because Harry thinks they’ll still have sex, so. 

He makes his way down the hall, but stops at Cole’s room. He goes in, for the first time by himself and only the second time since they lost him. “Was such a big room for such a small kid,” Harry says softly to himself. Or maybe he's talking to Cole’s ghost again, Harry isn't sure. 

There’s still clothes in the hamper and a bin of winter clothes that didn't fit Cole this winter. Harry remembers promising Cole that they’d fit next winter; now there isn't a next winter. He drops down next to the bin, looking at the different outfits in there and trying to imagine Cole wearing them. 

“I don't think you ever would have worn this anyway,” he sniffles, holding up a knit sweater with a reindeer on it. “You were just like Lou – he hates Christmas sweaters.

Cole never liked wearing the Christmas getup of a sweater and nice pants. Louis does too, he’d rather wear a warm regular sweater and a pair of jeans than a dumb sweater with a cartoon reindeer on it. Even when he was really little, Cole put up a fight in his Christmas best. 

“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do with all this stuff. Put it away? Donate it? Leave it here? I’m sorry you never got to wear Ernie’s snow boots that we got. I’m sorry you’ll never get to wear anything from this bin.” 

“Harry?” Louis calls, sounding confused. Harry thinks he went all the way down to their bedroom before realizing the door to Cole’s room was open. 

Louis sticks his head in, and makes some kind of sympathetic noise at the sight of Harry on the floor in front of the clothing bin. “What’re you doing, love? I thought you were gonna go to sleep.” 

“I was, and then I passed Cole’s room. And I don’t know what s’posed to do with all this  _ stuff,  _ Lou! I mean this is an entire bin with the twins’ old stuff your mum gave us. We can’t  _ give it back.”  _

Louis sits down beside him. “I know we can’t give it back,” he replies. 

“What are we supposed to do then?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You keep saying  _ I know  _ and  _ I don’t know.  _ Which one is it, Louis?!” Harry spits. Louis looks hurt. His eyebrows are drawn together and he’s getting tears in his eyes again. It really feels like they’re always crying. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just… sad. And drunk.” 

“I know. I know, Harry. You’re sad and you’re drunk. That I know. When you say shit to me about how you’re feeling I say I know, because I feel the same way. When you ask shit about what we should do, I don’t know. I say I don’t know because I  _ don’t,  _ Harry.” Louis does his best to explain even though he really to. Harry may be a little wine drunk, but he doesn’t need Louis to explain. 

“I just wish it wasn’t like this. I wish I could talk to him and tell I’m that I’m sorry and that I love him–”

“You don’t need to be sorry, H.” Louis says firmly. “You don’t  _ get  _ to be sorry. It’s not fair to you or to me or to Cole or to the driver that hit us. It wasn’t your fault – that guy was drunk and he should be the one feeling sorry and absolutely hating himself. Not you or me.” 

“You’re crying,” Harry whispers. It’s unnecessary, but he says it anyway and reaches up to wipe Louis’ cheeks. 

“So are you,” Louis laughs wetly. “That’s all we’ve been doing lately, is crying.” Harry’s glad he’s not the only one thinking that. 

  
  
  


Harry will credit Zayn on getting the two grieving parents out of the house for the first time in three weeks. You see, Zayn’s an artist. And he paints the most beautiful pieces that Harry always loves looking at and hearing about. So when Zayn called on Wednesday and invited them to a gala on Friday, Harry thought that they should go. He brought it up to Louis, who is just beginning to get back in the swing of writing, and said they should go. Louis didn’t see the point; they’d seen tons of Zayn’s stuff before. Harry won the argument eventually, so now it’s Friday night and they’re wearing nice suits (not their funeral suits) and sitting in their car outside the building. 

“Are you sure you want to go in?” Louis asks, for about the thousandth time since Harry brought up attending the showing on Wednesday. 

“I’m sure.” Harry replied, exactly the same way for the thousandth time since Wednesday. 

“Okay, let’s do this.” 

 

There’s champagne, which they help themselves to immediately upon entering. Zayn is chatting and mingling, so Harry and Louis look at some of the work while waiting for an opportunity to talk to him. 

Finally, Zayn stops by them. “I painted this after I lost my grandmother,” he says. 

“It’s beautiful,” Louis replies. Harry hums in agreement. 

“Thanks for coming out tonight. I know it must not have been easy.” 

“Our leftovers have basically run out anyway,” Harry attempts to make a joke, but really only gets a chuckle from Zayn. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

Zayn excuses himself, needing to get up and make his speech and unveil his highly anticipated new piece of artwork. At each viewing, Zayn has his average paintings and drawings then he has one piece that he works on and lets nobody see and tells nobody about and lets anticipation build. Harry drags Louis a bit closer to the front of the room so that they can see whatever the piece may be. 

“First and foremost I’d like to thank all of you for coming out tonight. It means the world to see so many people supporting my work. Now this painting is something that didn’t take me a lot of time to finish. I think that’s because it meant so much to me and it was important to get it finished before this particular gala. A lot of my artwork is about loss, losing friendships and relationships and love. But this piece is the product of a tragedy that happened to two people I love very much. I painted this for them.” 

The curtain falls and Harry’s looking right at a fairly large portrait of a boy with bright green eyes. He’s smiling, sitting in a field of wildflowers. The boy is Cole, it clicks. The two people Zayn loves very much are Harry and Louis, and Zayn painted this portrait for them. Louis’ frozen, eyes locked on the beautiful painting. 

“I would’ve told you guys that I was painting it, but it kind of defeats the purpose,” Zayn says, standing before the two of them. 

His eyes mirror Harry’s; both shiny with tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much. It’s beautiful. It looks like a photograph.” 

“It really only took a few days. After his funeral I went home and spent all night working. It’s a twenty four-by thirty, I would have gone one smaller but I liked having a lot of room to work with.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Louis finally says something. It sounds like his throat is tight. “It’s absolutely amazing. Cole would flip if he knew you made this just for him.” 

Zayn sighs, glancing at the painting. “I like to think he does know.” 

Harry doesn’t miss the look of surprise on Zayn’s face when Louis pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t miss Louis’ shoulders shaking as he cries a bit, and he doesn’t miss tears streaking Zayn’s cheeks either. “It’s beautiful,” Louis says again, voice shakier and cheeks wet now. 

“It was an honor. He was a brilliant little boy.” 

Harry bites his lip hard, still trying to maintain his composure. “Let it out, Haz,” Louis says softly, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

And he does. 

Zayn and Louis both hold him until the wave has passed, and Harry can’t help but laugh afterward about what a scene they’re making in the middle of this very important art gallery. Zayn replies that he wouldn’t want anyone other than Louis and Harry to cause such a scene. 

 

**_And what if i really thought_ **

**_some miracle would see us through?_ **

**_what if the miracle was even getting_ **

**_one moment with you?_ **

 

The days after the art gala slowly returns to something like normal. It will probably never be normal again, but. Harry still feels like that fog is still looming but it’s not as thick as it once was. Louis has been working nonstop on a writing piece that he won’t tell Harry anything about until it’s finished. They begin combing through Cole’s room, packing away some clothes for the future - there’s a tearful conversation about whether or not they’ll have more kids, and they decide yes. Someday. 

“Louis,” Harry groans, tipping his head back. “I need your help.” 

“Help with what, Harry?” Louis calls back. 

“We should move these boxes upstairs!”

“Okay, but I want you to read this first.” 

_ His writing piece.  _ Harry hurries downstairs to where Louis has been perched on the couch. “What is it?” 

Louis turns the laptop towards Harry.  _ My Personal Experience With Love and Loss.  _ Harry is taken by the title, knowing the rest will probably be about Cole. He takes a deep breath and continues on. 

_ A lot of people think that they are untouchable. When they’ve got everything, it seems like their life cannot get any better and absolutely nothing can touch them. I was one of those people. I had the love of my life, I had a good job that sent me travelling around the world to write beautiful pieces. Sometimes I got to go with the love of my life when he had to take photos. Then we got Cole. A beautiful, babbling boy with green eyes just like his father. He had dark, curly hair and as he got older he had a personality just like mine. I felt like I had it all, because I did. But I didn’t realize that with having it all, there’s a great risk of losing it all.  _

_ On December 3rd, 2017 it began snowing. Snow, of all things. We packed up in the car to go and visit my mother for the day. I thought that was just a regular day. I had everything I wanted and needed and I didn’t think it would be torn away.  _

_ But it was. We were hit by a drunk driver and my perfect, untouchable life was ruined. It was ripped to shreds. Losing Cole is, and probably always will be, the most painful, difficult thing I have ever had to go through. I think it’s like that for anyone who loses a child. You never, ever think that your baby – the one you expected to raise and watch grow up into someone beautiful – will be taken from you. When the surgeon came in and said those words I only ever expected to hear in television shows, I felt numb. That’s the only word I can think of to describe that moment; numb. I didn’t want to believe it, but I had to. I had to believe it for myself, for Cole, our family, and for Harry.  _

_ My untouchable life was ripped right out of my hands and torn to pieces right before my eyes. I had to watch an innocent, pure, beautiful life be taken by someone who had a few too many drinks before they got in the car. I expected the hurt to last for a very long time. I never thought we would come back from it. But we are, slowly but surely. We’re coming back by talking about Cole - never forgetting about him no matter how much it hurts us. We’re coming back by packing away his things and talking about having more kids. We’re coming back over bottles of red wine and late night conversations after nightmares. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it will hurt for a really long time. No, I do not think it will hurt forever.  _

_ My husband and I will get through this, like so many other parents do. We will gather the strength to continue on and keep the memory of Cole Patrick Tomlinson present in our lives and the lives of those we love.  _

“Seems like a bunch of rambling, probably, but boss said it was a good piece and after some editing it’d be good enough to publish.” Louis says.

Harry’s crying, tears dripping down his face without a single sound coming out. “No, it’s good. It’s nice. We’re going to move on and get stronger. And maybe we’ll find it in us to forgive the bastard. To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that prisoner was you.” 

Louis gives him a funny look. “Who said that?” 

“Um… Lewis something. Maybe  _ I  _ said it.”

“I’m sure you did, love,” Louis laughs softly, closing his laptop. “So that was my project. Like I said, it'll get some edits and stuff but I really think they’ll publish it.” 

“It was really nice, Lou. I think it could help other people. Like, they see our story and how you think everything is going to end up alright. I don't want to let those two seconds turn into a lifetime.” 

“I think we should have a yearly memorial or something. We could release blue balloons, since that was his favourite colour,” Louis suggests. 

Harry nods immediately. “Of course. I was thinking the same thing.” 

“We’re gonna get through this, Harry.”

  
  


Harry’s grateful that his and Louis’ relationship didn't fall apart when Cole passed. He’d seen a lot of relationships fall apart for a lot of reasons, and Harry knows what losing a child can do to a couple. He's grateful he still wakes up next to Louis and they still cry together and laugh together and make love and make dinner and slowly rebuild their broken hearts together. 

On a Wednesday night, nearly two months after, their doorbell rings just after dinner. Louis and Harry are still sitting in the dining room, drinking wine (as per usual) and talking about Cole (as per usual) and the future (a new, tentative subject). 

“I’ll get it,” Harry says, standing up before Louis can. 

“Are you sure?” 

Harry ignores Louis and goes for the door. Zayn is standing there, holding the portrait of Cole. “I wanted to give this to you guys,” he says. 

He welcomes Zayn in, offering a glass of wine. “No thanks. I've gotta get home to Pez. I just came to drop this off. I’m finally pulling it from the exhibit, so. I figured the best place for it is here, with you guys.” 

Harry’s throat feels tight. But he nods. “Yeah. I’d like that. Lou?” 

“Of course,” Louis chimes in, voice soft. 

“So, um, how are you guys doing?” 

“It's a day to day battle,” Harry replies. “Today was one of the better days.” 

“Until now, I’m guessing.” Zayn laughs. “Sorry about that.” 

“No, no! It's fine. It's… I learned my lesson, can't keep shit bottled up forever.” 

Zayn gives him a sad smile. “If you guys need anything let me know. I won't stay any longer. Give this a good spot on the wall, okay? Could be worth a lot of money one day.” 

“Thanks, Z.” Louis calls after him. 

Harry briefly wonders if Zayn got out so fast because he, too, saw the fog of grief and pain thickening over the house again. “Where are we gonna put it?” Harry asks. 

He looks at Louis, who is pouring himself another glass of wine. “I don't know. What do you think?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “That's why I was asking you.” 

“Maybe in the living room or something, I don't know.” 

Painting still in hand, Harry goes into the living room to see if there’s anywhere they could hang the painting. The spot right above the fireplace seems promising, if Harry would hang anything there it’d be something important and meaningful, it would be above the fireplace. 

He leaves it leaning against the coffee table for now, turning and heading back to Louis. “Are you okay?” 

“This Friday, it'll be two months. We didn't even really celebrate Christmas this year because we were too depressed,” Louis says, staring intently at his empty glass of wine. 

“It's okay,” Harry replies, sitting down across from him. “We were grieving and celebrating Christmas without Cole seemed like the most difficult thing in the world.” 

“I’d give anything just to get Christmas with him. To give him the stuff we’d gotten for him and see his face light up over Santa’s gifts and go get his picture taken with Santa at the mall.” 

Harry reaches over for Louis’ hand. “Me too.”

“I thought we’d be walking out of there alright. All three of us. But that would've taken a fucking miracle, I think. And I didn't believe in miracles before, but now I  _ really don't.” _

Harry still thinks that miracles have to be possible. Unfortunately they didn't get one, but that doesn't mean they don't happen. But he nods along with Louis’ statement. 

Louis sniffs, wiping at his cheeks before reaching for the bottle of wine. “We have to figure out where we want to hang that up,” he declares. 

 

**_You were my best four years._ **

 

“Is it crooked?” Louis asks, stepping back to admire his handiwork. 

“No. It's perfect,” Harry shakes his head, staring in awe at the painting of Cole. 

“He’d love knowing this was all for him.” 

Harry smiles. “Of course he would, he was just like you.” 

“If he was anything like me that means cute boys would’ve been his weakness, god help him. I’m gonna go check on dinner, mum and the girls will be here soon.” 

“Okay,” Harry whispers, squeezing Louis’ hand before he walks away. 

Harry stares at the painting, the detailed work of Cole's facial features. They share the same eyes, Louis always spoke about how grateful he was that Cole got Harry’s green eyes. Harry was always grateful that Cole was developing a personality like Louis’ — outgoing and playful. He only wishes they could see who he’d become. 

As he continues studying this beautiful painting, Harry gets a feeling in his heart and in his stomach that feels oddly new. When the doorbell rings and Louis calls Harry’s name, calls for Harry to pull himself away from the art, he thinks he finally recognizes the feeling. It feels a lot like letting go. 

 

[it takes more than two seconds for Harry and Louis to recover, but they do it. Harry learns that it wasn't his fault after they win their case against the drunk driver. Louis learns that missing one Christmas wasn't the end of the world, and they can do Christmas without Cole. Together they learn about a young girl from Ghana in need of a loving home. Together they learn how to raise a young, energetic little girl. They learn that two seconds will have a lifetime of consequence, but if you live through those two seconds, they will not destroy you if you do not let them]

**Author's Note:**

> congrats you finished !!! feel free to leave comments, kudos and follow my twitter or tumblr!! thank you!  
> twitter: allgonnamakeit_  
> tumblr: alwaysbearound


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